Hunger
by zethonring
Summary: The memoir of an unknown solider of New Genesis in his plight to fight the denizens of Apokolips in the great war between the two worlds. Based on the New Gods mythology.


What is one grain, they would say. What is one grain against the storm. A saying I was all too used to hearing in the days of my youth. At the time I was rather naïve and dismissive, thinking it of little importance. But now, with every passing day, hour, moment, second I am reminded of its actuality. It is easy to find oneself lost in times such as this. Times when day and night meld into one continuous, never ending calamity. All through these days and nights that dance together as one I think of the past I left behind, the unrecoverable history of my time in my former home.

It was a small city, one upon the outskirts of the grandeur of the capital. My existence for the most part was a docile one. One that rarely saw me venture beyond the vast fields of the never ending acres surrounding our farm. It may have been a joyous sight for many, but the stretch of never ending land beyond was something I didn't take much pleasure in. Throughout most of my life I never dared to venture much beyond it. I heard many tales about the wicked lands beyond our farm, a land to the west inhabited by the 'Prims' as my parents called them. I was never much interested in seeing them, not out of fear but rather lack of presence. Every tale I heard of their savage society seemed only to perpetuate the idea that they were a bovine people of a disposition not worth engaging in. My interest growing up had always lain East rather than West. Towering over everything, its grandiose presence felt in even the most remote corners of our lands was the metropolitan city of Supertown.

For a very long time I had seen not seen hide nor hair of it. Though it had always intrigued me. My parents, from what I could gather used to live there, but opted to move to a more isolated location once the vast city life became a little too much. My father in particular, had a hard time remaining after the loss of most of his family in the Great War. My mother lost a fair number of her relations too, but she somehow never seemed as affected by it as my father. To the very last time I saw him I could see it in his face. The memories of times long past, the despair he felt over the loss of loved ones he'd spend an age growing up with. Truth be told I was surprised he found the courage to carry on with a stable life the way he did. Even when the war seemed to be making progress, even when others came to our aide, it never seemed to make a difference. I think this was where I first got the idea to join myself.

After a while of wandering the fields and reading of much greater men, eventually I grew weary. With the strength of youth still imbued within me and a burning passion to leave my imprint on society I soon became possessed with an idea. An idea that involved a journey, an idea that would likely lead to heartbreak and bloodshed, and hard times the like of which neither me nor my parents had ever seen. After thinking it over for some time I eventually convinced myself to move to the capital city of Supertown. My parents thought little of it at first, though they were of course suspicious. I'd never expressed the will to do such a thing any time before beyond a mere curiosity about life in the capital, but beyond it all I had even grander intentions and I believe they could tell from the very moment I began speaking.

When it was finally time to leave, the goodbye was much more emotional than I had imagined. We hugged and shook hands and held back what tears we had, though I could tell deep down they had the same fleeting worry that I did. Even then it may have been a premonition rather than a feeling that this would be the very last time I saw them.

After a tearful goodbye eventually I left them and made my way to the city. The first time I saw it, it was everything I'd hoped and more. Until this point I had only knew of Supertown from what I had read in ancient books, I had only **seen** it in my dreams. Deep down part of me held a worry it would be nothing like I envisioned it, but when I first set foot into its ancient depths I was struck with awe and wonder the likes of which would never leave me. An awe and wonder that I knew would stay with me until the very instant of my dying breath. It was paradise.

Though I will admit, despite it all I was somewhat apprehensive on my first day. I recall every moment in vivid detail, particularly the number of vastly powerful beings that walked and flew by me throughout the day, as easily as a fish may swim through the coming tides. I was half expecting to see one of the legendary figures I'd read about as I wandered, taking in the sights, but of course, like any other city, most of the ordinary citizens were nothing to be amazed by. They were just like any others in the small town near the one I was raised, only with an air of self-importance. After a day of wandering I finally made my way to my destination and signed up to be drafted. It was an eerie process, and one not as pleasant as one would imagine.

I'd read about the Rite of Ascension of course, but experiencing it was something else entirely. As my body held firm and gave way to the Source, I felt power the likes of which I didn't know existed in the world. By the time I came out of it I felt more or less the same, though it didn't take long for me to see the evidence of how much stronger I was, and faster.

Training went on for some time, and it was exceedingly fulfilling. One thing I could never get over was the good mood people managed to remain in in spite of terrible odds. I knew the goings on were grizzly, but I didn't think it was the type of thing one could laugh about. I remember talking to a fellow solider Rael about my worries and he simply told me that it was their way of staying optimistic. _For if one were to worry_ , he would say, _they would never act_. This, like so many other things I was taught was true. Those that seemed to worry would never make it far in training, they would always end up the cowards or quitters. None of them made it to the frontier like the rest of us, and I envy them for it.

It's an interesting thing stepping out on to your first battlefield. The fact is nothing can quite prepare you for it. You may read books and watch movies, but nothing you imagine is ever quite as bone trembling as those moments when you first descend on the field of battle. The feeling of constant danger and panic, knowing your life could come to a sudden end from any possible direction at any given interval. It's a thrill unlike any other. Sport is good, sex is great, but war is life. War it seems is the very thing we live for, the very thing that keeps our home-worlds separate. Two worlds as different as daylight and darkness, linked by the thinnest of threads, an ideal that haunts every generation, those long before and long after us.

My first campaign was wildly successful, very few casualties. Though my second was not quite as straightforward. Towards the end of the battle we lost Rael, one of the first people I'd met upon recruitment. He was a passionate person, and one whose loss of life made this hellish world just a little more bleak. He'd left an expecting wife at home, and a grieving family. Something that still makes me sick to my stomach. Despite it all however, this campaign was not the worst.

The third campaign was beyond even my comprehension. How it started I clearly remember, but how it ended still remains a blur to me. I remember fighting, doing what I could to fend off the Parademons, but at some point I remember being overwhelmed. I recall being cornered and forced into submission. I thought it would be over once they disarmed me, I had never been more wrong in all my life.

Through the valleys I wander. Through walkways of sorrow and hell fire. In days long past I used to explore the surroundings of my docile village, now I explore the damned eternity of a village the name of which I still don't know. They don't tell us much here besides what to do and what not to do. I had of course read many stories about this place growing up and yet, despite it all I never quite understood just how bad it was until I arrived. Even when I was in the military, they gave us a sense of what was to be found here, but you can never truly understand it until you live it for yourself. I suppose that's often the way with life. Just about everything is fiction until one sees it with their own two eyes. When I was younger I would have given anything to see beyond the bounds of my small home on the edges of the grand city, now I'd give anything to go back, even for a day. Now my life consists mainly of work. The man above all is apparently the one behind all this, the dark lord whose name I shudder to even think about. I do not see him however, whether that is a blessing or a curse I'm not yet certain. Instead my faction deals with one of his subordinates, whose even lower than his main subordinates. The hierarchy confuses me, but from what I understand our work remains important. The dark lord is working on a weapon when the likes of which hasn't been done on either world. From what I hear he hopes to not only end the war, but to travel further afield, to a planet, the name of which escapes me so he can fell one of his greatest foes.

Though the work we do is minor, we mainly mine and ship materials to a factory that builds larger parts of the device to be attached in due time. From what I understand, this process has been under way for some time, though most of the people who were here at its inception have long since perished. Replaced by Lowlies from Armagetto and newcomers such as myself. I've tried making friends, but unsurprisingly it's not as easy as it was in the military. It's as if the very souls of the people here have been lost to the misery of this planet. No one has more than a few words to say, most of them only answering the most basic and necessary questions. The misery is one thing but the loneliness is all too much. I have been planning my escape for some time now. Though I don't see how such a thing could be possible, I do have an idea.

From what I hear there are other people on Apokolips, some with the means to travel to other worlds. I wonder, perhaps if they can take me back to New Genesis, with all its beauty and wonder. I searched around and bribed people for what information I could, but it was months before I found even the smallest morsel of information.

Word has it that a secret passageway exists in our base, one that can be accessed for a certain fee. It leads to nowhere in particular, but it's far enough away from the base that one can travel without detection. Upon undertaking the necessary steps to begin my journey, I left as soon as possible. I travelled for an age until I found myself in the destitute plains of a never ending desert. In the middle of a barren wasteland, wandered by none except the most foolish of individuals. I walked for days, weeks and what felt like months, slowly burning through my supplies and stealing what sustenance I could from the arid soil and dead camps of travellers long past. It was never ending. I don't know much about biology but I do know I've not long left for this cursed world. Though we New Gods are said to be immortal, it doesn't surprise me that the Dark Lord has managed to take even that from us. It astonishes me how such a hellish world can be as sophisticated as our own. Though I think to myself as I walk that progress favours no particular ideal over the other.

I seem to be coughing up blood every few minutes. The desert sands scraping the fleshy lining off the back of my throat with each inhale. Each step sends a wave of pain thundering through my body. A cut I received a few weeks ago has re-opened and I can tell it's now infected. I can't observe it however, right now all I can do is walk and wander, seeking my salvation, if such a thing even exists. The thought has occurred to me a number of times that this whole thing may have been a ploy, but I was too desperate to care.

As I lay weeping late into one particular night I cursed myself for ever being foolish enough to undertake this childish fantasy. I can't stop thinking about how much better my life would have been back home, how much my parents are likely missing me and what my old army buddies are up to right this very minute. Knowing them they'd likely be working, without the slightest worry in the world. How good life was then.

I walked the next day and onwards until something peculiar happened. It seemed I had discovered something. In the distance seemed to stand a structure. I hadn't noticed it on the previous days, what with the never ending sand storms, but now it was clear as day. Had I the energy I may have sprinted towards it. But now I simply crept as rapidly as I could until it came close into view. There seemed to be security, Parademons and Furies, everywhere. It was a miracle they didn't spot me. I walked with the remainder of my strength until I heard a voice and stopped dead in my tracks. It was a voice that made my skin crawl, it disturbed me more than anything and shook me to my very core. Looking up, I made out the rough image of two people talking. One was a regular sized man in a colourful outfit of red, yellow and green, the other was a being who I knew despite never having seen him before. He was a giant and by far the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen in my life. The two conversed for some time before the smaller man stormed off in a fit of rage and I found myself staring at the larger man. The man in question stared off into the distance introspectively, as though deep in thought. So this is he, I thought to myself, this is the creature I've had nightmares about every night for the past goodness knows how many months. I stared at him for a little longer when my heart jumped in a panic as he looked in my direction. I moved, whether in time or not I do now know, but I managed to get away for the time being and entered a secret passageway under the building.

It wasn't hard to find, one would think they wanted people to stumble across it. It lead me into a narrow corridor which was so dimly lit I struggled to see ahead of me. I walked with caution for some time, the pain in my body now much more elevated as I walked on a solid metallic floor. I walked for a lengthy stretch before I found myself falling. It was not a wholly unpleasant feeling, it was nice to feel my muscles relax, even if only for a few seconds. When I hit the ground however, what awaited me changed things entirely. The first thing I remember is being stung by something. It ripped right through my delicate flesh and I groaned in agony before rolling over. I lay on the ground panting for a minute before getting up. When I did I was horrified at my surroundings. Below me, around me and as far as the eye could see were bones. Many of them foreign but the vast majority of my own race. I recoiled in terror at the sight of them, recognising the uniforms as some of the same from my own military faction. I sat there panting in terror for a while before taking a lengthier look around. The uniforms on just about all of them were familiar, and there were some that looked less so, as though they were from other worlds. Eventually I rose from the bones and ashes beneath me and began making my way out. Before I could leave however something caught my eye. A uniform, one with a particular mark on it caught my attention I looked down at the decayed thing and saw a familiar looking tag on the namesake. It was the body of Rael.

I stared at it for some time, long enough for the tears to start rolling down. I thought of all the good times I'd had with him, all the training regimes we did together and all the plans we'd made for life after the war. Though this Great War it seems will likely never have an ending. Not any time soon anyhow. I slowly placed my hand down and brushed the side of the remains, making sure it was real. I then began crying loudly until the sight of a maggot crawling out of the eye socket threw me off. I flinched and got up. I began running backwards and then forwards when I bumped into something. It was hard, but it didn't feel lifeless. I fell backwards and looked in front of me. There, towering over me in all its horror was the Dark Lord himself. The Demon God. The Grey Monster. He stared at me with his piercing red eyes, not morsel of pity shone through them. I was speechless, I could only stare and wait for something to happen. It was a while before something did.

"You've strayed far, Lowlie." though I wasn't a Lowlie, I couldn't bring myself to contest his words, I was too terrified to speak. Soon enough however I didn't have to as he removed his arm from behind his back and grabbed me as a fully grown man may grab a rag doll. He lifted me like I was nothing and held me above himself like I was a rodent. My mouth opened but no words would come out. My nose ran, my eyes watered and all the pain within me now felt amplified. The worn out muscles, the scar oozing with puss, everything seemed a thousand times more painful all of a sudden.

"Unfortunately, I don't do second chances." he said as his eyes began to shimmer with light. I tried to speak, tried to explain myself but the words simply wouldn't come, I was petrified in agony. I thought of a thousand different things at once as I squirmed, all I had done in my life, all I could have done, all I still could do. None of it seemed to matter any more. None of it against this monster. As he spoke, I got a nagging feeling these may just be the last words I'd ever hear. And so he began.

"Do you know who I am, Lowlie?" he asked. At that I tried to speak again, with a little more energy. If there was some chance, any that I could escape this I had to take it. I tried my hardest to speak. Putting every bit of energy I had towards my vocal cords as I uttered the syllables.

"D-D-D-... Da-Da-"

But before I could even finish, I saw his eyes brighten with even greater intensity. And as I looked into the face of death itself the most depressing thought occurred to me. My plight, my suffering, none of this would likely mean anything to any one. This great war, the planes of New Genesis, the pits of Apokolips, Highfather and his disciples, none of this would have any impact. My suffering, my pain and agony was merely entirely inconsequential. A single grain. As the bright red lights of the Dark Lords eyes departed his being and entered me, my last thought was of the saying I had heard so long ago, from an author unknown. What is one grain, they would say. What is one grain against the storm.


End file.
